"Life's either a daring adventure or nothing." Helen Keller

The Order Of Things

If you were peering though our window this afternoon, only my lower half would have been visible. As usual, I was buried under a pile of bodies – my punishment for daring to lie prone, on a couch, in the middle of the day.

Miss C was sitting on my head, and Miss S was sitting on my shoulder. Both were chatting about this and that.

For weeks, Miss C has sworn she sees a boat on our ceiling, so she was trying to get me to look at it. All I could see were the limbs of two serious sisters.

A few months ago, Miss C told me there was a man on the ceiling in my bedroom. Coincidence that Miss Q told me the exact same thing when she was Miss C’s age? I think not. Time to burn some sage.

Ignoring the boat that was, “Up there.” Miss S continued outlining what Miss C was to expect when she went to preschool – in September 2014.

“Where’s Baby O?” Miss C asked randomly.

“I think she’s at her new house,” I said.

“When Baby O is bigger, you two are going to be friends,” Miss S informed her sister.

“When Baby O is bigger, you can be her friend too,” I told Miss S.

“No,” Miss S replied. “I’m the big cousin.”

“But you’re friends with Miss C.”

“No I’m not. I’m her big sister.”

Baby O is my (little) brother and sister-in-law’s daughter. Before her birth, earlier this year, Miss Q, Miss S and Miss C were the only grandchildren on both my side of the family and my husbands. You’d think out of four brothers (three on my side and one on my husbands) there would be more grand-babies, but you’d be wrong.

Baby O has been a lovely addition to our family. She’s sweet, adorable, allegedly has a set of lungs on her, and is vastly interested in what her big cousins are doing.

They, in turn, are vastly interested in her. Miss Q likes to give Baby O toys to play with and loves it when Baby O smiles at her or holds her finger. Miss S is the constant observer; the ever adoring hostess. Miss S would follow Baby O and whomever’s caring for her around for hours if she could.

Perhaps because there are only 16 months between Baby O and Miss C, Miss C spends the most time investigating her new friend. Tonight, the two of them were lying on their tummy’s watching each other. Magical, even when Baby O tugged Miss C’s hair. Miss C was puzzled by that move, and had to discuss, but quickly resumed watching her little friend with her giant baby blues.

Another thing Miss C has to discuss, every time the subject of Baby O arises goes like this:

Miss C: Baby O threw up.

Me: Where?

Miss C: In my mouth.

Miss C tilts her head back and opens her mouth as wide as possible, then points to the back of her throat.

Me: Really?

Miss C: Yes. Gross.

Me: But it’s not there now.

Miss C: Why?

Me: Because we washed it away with water, right?

Miss C: Why?

Me: Because it was in your mouth.

Miss C: Baby O threw up.

Miss C tilts her head back and points to the back of her open mouth.

Me: I know.

Miss C: Gross.

I can feel her pain. But can you feel mine?

There’s no stopping the circular conversations of a 21-month-old. No stopping a story with legs.

A couple months back, Uncle M was lying on the couch, surrounded by his nieces. I think he was making Baby O fly, but I’m not 100% on this fact as I was in the kitchen. Regardless, Baby O spat up. It hit Miss C’s face and open mouth.

Miss C wasn’t impressed, but, POOF: a story was born.

I’m sure this story will haunt Baby O and Miss C for many years, but at least they’re now connected.

Growing up, it was always exciting to hear a new cousin was born, but they all lived far away so the, “you have a new cousin” speech packed little punch – other than the one who cost me a dollar. Never make a bet on a due-date with my Granny!

For my girls, the speech holds punch. They got to watch their auntie’s belly grow; discuss if the baby inside was a boy or blond haired, blue-eyed girl like Miss S (Baby O has brown hair and hazel eyes); and be there the evening of the day Baby O was born. Though we had a spell of sickness run that sidelined us from baby-time for two months, it’s as if no time has passed when the trio sees their little cousin.

One day Baby O will drop her “Baby” status, and be a regular old Miss; though one of my cousins is secretly “Muffin” even though she’s now an RN. Until then, and even though it is five months late:

Me

I enjoy watching soccer in the rain. Most of our crafts involve glitter, finger paint or both. I am learning to eat my vegetables. And, whether in socks or bare feet, I absolutely hate stepping on Lego. Here I blog about life with my three little girls, husband and dog.